


It’s Like Magic

by skeletonrae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drunk!Hermione, F/M, Gen, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, if i look at this anymore i’ll start hating it, minister!hermione - Freeform, tomionekinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonrae/pseuds/skeletonrae
Summary: Hermione was drunk. She didn’t particularly want to be drunk, but desperate times call for desperate drinking.It’s not every day that Hermione is teleported sixty years in the past- she’s pretty sure she deserves it.Happy new year, she supposes.





	It’s Like Magic

In a dingy bar, full of smoke and closed doors, a young lady sat. She looked uncomfortable and unsteady, a feeling to which she was clearly unused.

The bar was lively, crowds of disreputes getting drunk and rowdy for the new year. It was 1946- soon, it would be 1947. The future was now, they said to themselves.

And yet she sat, quiet. She seemed frustrated.

She was given a wide berth. This was a party for celebrating, not for moping. Let alcohol be her only company.

-

Hermione tossed the whiskey to the back of her throat, the burn making it’s way into oblivion. She repeated the motion again. And again. And....

She was drunk. Whatever.

She was also alone, with naught but the clothes on her back, the wand in her pocket, and the money she just spent on alcohol.

“Rough night?” a voice asked from beside her. Hermione turned from her drink to stare at the man sitting to her right. Her head span from the motion, and it took her a moment to focus on his face.

“Aren’t you s’posed to complim’nt me? That’s how that works.”

His face was... ridiculously handsome, Hermione had to admit. High cheekbones, dark eyes, handsome lips, sculpted eyebrows. Damn, his dark hair was full and luscious too. It was a bit much for her addled mind to process.

“Y’see, a man sits beside you. He gives you a com- a uh. Complim’nt. He says something nice to you, buys you a drink.”

The man was looking more and more amused, Hermione saw. She pointed at him accusingly.

“You messed up the pattern!” Hermione slurred.

“My apologies,” he smiled, waving over the bartender, “I didn’t realize routine was so important. Shall I try again?”

Hermione thought for a second. On one hand, she was in the literal past after a freak accident at the Ministry, and probably shouldn’t even be talking to this man. On the other hand, she was piss drunk, lonely, and he was a handsome man offering to flirt with her.

He seemed to be patiently waiting for her to decide, too. That was certainly nice of him.

She was in a muggle bar anyways, what could happen?

“If you please,” Hermione nodded, straightened up, stuck her nose in the air, and turned to face forward. She considered signaling for another drink.

“Hey baby, what’s cooking?”

Hermione snorted, covering her mouth before she full on burst into laughter at the fake American accent.

“Have you ever- _hic_ -actually used that before? Did it work?”

All this turning-and-facing business was making her feel nauseous.

“Well, I used it just now. You tell me- _did_ it work?” He took a sip of his drink, something hot from what Hermione could see.

Hermione dragged a salacious eye over his body, leering suggestively. He seemed amused.

“It has less to do with your words, I think, than all of your- your other things. That you have. The uh,”

“Good looks?” He looked less amused now, and more concerned. It was just as attractive. “Not to be rude, but merlin, you’re absolutely smashed.”

Hermione stared at him. Something he just said wasn’t right. The thought passed just as quickly as it came.

“Yes, I know. I’ve had a great, great, great many shots. Of whiskey. And beer, I think. I don’t know.” Hermione glanced down to her hands. They were shaking, she saw. Odd. That’d never happened to her before- not even the night she and Ron broke up.

“Are you alright? Care to confide in a stranger?” He leaned forward earnestly, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

She looked at his hand, then his face. He seemed genuine enough, and Hermione hadn’t talked to anyone in what felt like weeks. Research had gotten the best of her, and then the accident had happened.

He was a muggle anyways, so she could obliviate him later. If she had to.

“I’m not from around here,” she began, reaching for her glass. It was empty. “Like- not from _around_ here, around here.”

She leaned closer to him to emphasize her point, not noticing that the man was less than a foot away from her.

“I’m from the future,” she whispered.

The man didn’t even blink. In fact, Hermione thought she saw the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. It was a good look on him.

“That certainly sounds like a reasonable excuse to get drunk. Is it normal for people to travel through time in the future?”

“Ah, no. Not really. Not at all, I’d say. Never, if I’m being honest. No, nope. Nada. Nein. Non.”

Hermione knew she was rambling. Why did she think this was a good idea again?

“Well, that’s disappointing. I had hoped for many more technological advances.”

“There are!” Hermione felt the inexplicable urge to defend her original timeline, “We have no war, right now anyways, which is pr’tty good con-, consider’ng the last guy, we have equal pay for humans- ‘m still working on the creatures bit, it’s harder than I thought it’d be- ‘nd the elevator in the Ministry doesn’t squeak anymore. That was the hardest thing to change, I swear. Damned thing.”

By the end of her ramble, Hermione was mumbling obscenities. The elevator really had been stubborn.

“That sounds lovely, Miss...?”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, lost in thought. Again.

Should she give her real name? Would it change the fate of the world? Did it matter if this muggle knew? She had already said so many things. Would this be the proverbial last straw?

“Hermione Granger. Minister Granger, if you will.”

“Minister! Fascinating. You look a bit young for such an office.”

Dolphin eyes. He had dolphin eyes, Hermione decided. Intelligent and cold and so fucking pretty.

“I am- but like I said. The last war hit us pretty hard. Voldemort was a right bastard, ruined our society. We had to build from the bottom up, and I just happened to be available and interested and competent.” What were these secrets to a muggle, anyways? Nothing more than silly stories from a drunk.

“Voldemort? What a queer name. French, is it?” The man, -what was his name again?- rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. Hermione had forgotten it was there.

“Yes, French. Not his given name, but what can you do.” She shrugged.

They sat in silence for a second, the man looking like he wanted to ask a great many more questions. The hustle and bustle of the bar continued, the everyday noises going ignored by the couple.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Hermione blurted, “Tell me about yourself!”

“Theres not much to tell, honestly,” he sheepishly smoothed his hair down, as if any of it had been out of place, “I graduated from a private school in Scotland several years back, and now I work in an antique shop. That’s about it.”

That... sounded familiar.

A hush suddenly went over the bar, startling Hermione enough for her to look over her shoulder. A man was standing on a table, beer in hand.

“Alright you lot! It’s almost the new year. I propose a toast! To good health!”

“To good health!” The crowd shouted back, taking a toast.

“To our loved ones! To peace! To a happy new year!”

A cheer went up.

“Hermione, listen,” Hermione’s new friend whispered in her ear- when had he gotten so close?- making her flinch. “Do you hear that? It’s the sound of a new beginning.”

Hermione turned to face him, their cheeks pressed against each other.

“All I hear is drunken shouting,” she confided.

“It’s like magic,” his lips were pressed to the edge of her mouth, he was so close, so _fucking_ close, “don’t you think?”

Hermione turned her head fully, her smile pressed against his.

“Happy new year!” The crowd roared, all of them stomping and clapping.

He kissed her then, eyes half lidded.

Hermione kissed back, torso turning back around to press closer to him. She tilted her head, glancing up through her eyelashes to look at him from up close.

Flawless skin, flawless mouth, flawless nose.

 _That’s_ _strange_ , Hermione thought. _He_ _has_ _a_ _nose_. _Why_ _is_ _it_ _strange_ _that_ _he_ _has_ _a_ _nose_?

The man’s eyes glinted in the dim lighting, a splash of light making his eyes appear red for just a moment.

“My name is Tom Riddle, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Minister Hermione Granger.”

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo OwO
> 
> tbh tho, this is probably the most dialogue i’ve ever written, put together. lol


End file.
